


Of Fire and Earth

by CausticCupcake



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Student!Cas, Teachers Aid!Dean, art students, clay nerdiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:22:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2766227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CausticCupcake/pseuds/CausticCupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's an ex-army turned clay artist who's been to hell and back and uprooted his life to study with an eccentric clay professor in St. Paul Minnesota. Castiel is an ex-accountant who left his family's company in order to pursue his passion after they disowned him for coming out as gay. They meet in class one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Fire and Earth

It was hot and dry.   
Sand went on for miles and miles and miles, dunes rising up to kiss the sky on the horizon. Dean could feel the sweat trickle down between his shoulder blades under his jacket. There was an energy in the air, crackling around him like it was statically charged. His stomach was in knots. The feeling of dread settled over him.   
The ground shook in a way that Dean had gotten all too familiar with and he braced himself for the inevitable shock-wave. He looked ahead to see what the fuck happened to get a landmine to go off, and his blood turned to ice.   
His ears were ringing so loudly in his skull that his teeth hurt, but as soon as he came back to himself, he was rushing forward toward the front of the convoy.   
“Dean!” Someone called from behind him, trying to grab a hold of his arm, no doubt to keep him out of harms way. To hell with that. He rushed forward and weaved in and out of the smattering of people, ignoring the chorus of “stay back”s and “stand your ground”s.   
The jeep was on it’s side, flames engulfing it and putrid black smoke coiling up like a serpent into the air around it. Dean could hear someone yelling inside the twisted metal frame that remained of the vehicle.   
“Sam!” He called. “Sammy!”   
The smoke burned his lungs and made his stomach curdle. His eyes watered in an attempt to get the ash and sand out of them. Dean was barely a hundred feet away from the site when someone tackled him from the side.   
“Get down you fucking idiot!” The man called, his coffee-brown eyes squinting down at Dean.   
“Rufus, Sam is fucking in there! He’s in there!” Dean choked, the smoke like a vice on his vocal chords.   
Rufus opened his mouth to shout something back to Dean, but it was drowned out by another explosion, this one much louder and much closer. Dean could feel the blast of heat prickle his skin and ruffle the hair poking out from under his helmet. Rufus’ eyes grew wider above him as he muttered something Dean couldn’t hear.   
Dean pushed himself off the ground, jumping over Rufus’ stunned form and stopped short, his mouth falling open. There was nothing left of the Jeep that Sam had been trapped in.

Dean startled awake covered in sweat to his alarm clock reminding him that he was at home. In his crappy apartment in Minnesota. The familiar click of claws on the wood floor in the bedroom grounded him a little further. He reached over and shut off the alarm at the same time that Bear jumped onto his bed, looming over him in the ominous way that he did. Dean ran a hand through his hair absently as he stared up at the ceiling. Bear nosed at him and snuffled his neck, like he always did whenever Dean had a nightmare.   
“I’m okay, bud.” Dean said, reaching up and scratching behind the black lab’s ear. “Just a bad dream.”   
Bear tilted his head and let out a low whine. Dean cracked a small smile and said “let’s get you some grub.”  
At that the dog perked up visibly and started wagging his tail.   
“Glutton.” Dean groaned as he hoisted himself up and out of bed.   
Bear danced around Dean’s legs as he hobbled out into the kitchen, his back giving him trouble like it did most days. It would get better after a hot shower, it always did. He glanced at the calendar hanging up over his desk and saw today’s date circled. Classes started today. This was his big test. The first day of being a teacher’s aid at a small Lutheran college in St. Paul.   
Bear let out a small yip and Dean scowled at him.   
“It’s coming dude! Jeez. You’d think I starved you.”   
Dean fed his ridiculously impatient dog and let him outside the backdoor on his lead while he made himself a pot of strong coffee. He was going to need it today. Once Bear was back inside, he excused himself to shower. He wanted to be at the studio a little earlier than the class started and he was already running late.   
Thirty minutes later when he was showered, dressed and mentally prepared for his first day of kind-of teaching, he was getting into his car--67 Chevy Impala, and dropped his coffee mug.   
“Goddammit.” He cursed, picking up the shards and dumping them in the trash. The mug he wasn’t so worried about--as a ceramist he could easily make another. But that coffee was his elixir of life today, and he didn’t have time to go back inside and start another pot of the stuff. Of course as he grabbed the last oddly shaped shard, he managed to slice his thumb open.   
“Fucking perfect.” He grumbled, sticking his thumb in his mouth and opening the car door with his other hand.   
It took him ten minutes to find a parking space, which really wasn’t any different than usual but considering the morning he was already having, made him even more irritable. He tried to calm himself down on his walk into the art building, find his center like he did when he was working at the wheel. He was good at this. Williams chose him because he knew he was good.   
Dean let himself into the dark studio and flipped on the lights as he walked through. Class wasn’t for another forty-five minutes, but he wanted to make sure the place was presentable and that Mike hadn’t left out any of his shit the night before. There was a little bit of prep work to do for the demo that Williams wanted to give, and he still needed to go down to the copy center to get the syllabi for the intro to ceramics class. He hoped he would have time to stop by the campus coffee shop and get a cup of coffee at some point too.   
After he stashed his stuff in his corner of the studio, he started prepping some clay for Williams to show some basic hand-building techniques with for today’s demo. He stood at the wedging table and reveled in the feel of the cool clay kissing his finger tips, the way the muscles in his arms strained and tensed with the familiar motion of kneading the air out of the earth, aligning the molecules to produce a strong clay body. God damn, he was a nerd for this shit. The sound of heavy boot-steps pulled him from his place and he smiled softly.   
“Hey, Mindy.” He said, not bothering to look away from his wedging.   
“Heya asshat. What are you working on?”   
Dean snorted and looked over his shoulder at the girl. She was much younger than him. He didn’t even think she could legally drink yet, but the way she carried herself made her seem older. Wiser. Like she’d been through some shit and come back from it a little different. She was short. Barely came up to Dean’s chest, and had bright magenta hair. She was heavy-set, something that she joked about but genuinely didn’t seem to bother her otherwise. Today she was wearing a black t-shirt with an alien on it and the words “I believe” in block letters across her chest.   
“Nice shirt.” He snorted, turning back to his work.   
“Better than wearing a damn flannel every day of my life.” She quipped, hanging her backpack up on the coat rack hanging in the corner by the door. “I need some coffee. My roommate killed the keurig last night.” She held up her student ID which Dean knew the kids who lived on campus had loaded up with theoretical money to spend in the cafeteria and coffee shop. “My treat.” She said, giving it a little shake.   
“God, yes!” Dean moaned appreciatively, turning away from the cement-slabbed wedging table and wiping his hands on his jeans.   
Mindy giggled in that fucking adorable way she did and linked arms with Dean, pulling him out into the hallway and toward the coffee shop. It occurred to Dean a few weeks ago that he should probably be a little worried about what the other staff and faculty on campus deduced about his relationship with the college sophomore. But a larger part of him didn’t care. Mindy was like the little sister he never wanted and he knew that she felt the same way about him. She’d been around the studio, working in the summer with Williams and when Dean moved to town to work with him, she managed to weasel her way into his life. What he expected to be a fairly lonely first three months in a new state turned out to be, well, fun. Filled with lunch dates and museum trips and even a few concerts. She reminded him of his brother and that both endeared and terrified him.   
“Dean!” She hissed, grip tightening on his arm.   
“Ouch! What?!” He said, realizing she’d caught him not listening to her chatter on the walk to the cafe.   
“That’s him!” She practically squealed, eyes widening under her thick-framed glasses.   
Dean snorted and rolled his eyes, a snarky remark on the tip of his tongue. But then he caught sight of who she was gesturing at and the words seemed to melt away. Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that guy was gorgeous. His hair was the color of dark chocolate and looked like he just rolled out of bed. Dean itched to run his finger through it and comb out all the tangles. He had a fair amount of scruff accumulating on his face and neck, and it looked like he just hadn’t bothered to shave for a few days, too wrapped up in his studies, Dean surmised. He must have sensed Dean and Mindy’s eyes on him because he looked up from the book he was pouring over and met Dean with the most beautiful blue fucking eyes he’d ever seen.   
Mindy cleared her throat obnoxiously and hissed “You’re staring you big oaf!”   
Dean shook himself out of it and lead them toward the coffee bar where he ordered for them--cold press with a half shot of vanilla for Mindy and a black coffee for himself, and pulled his wallet out from his back pocket, handing the lady behind the counter several dog-eared bills.   
“Hey!” Mindy protested. “I said I was buying. You got the last one.”  
“Forget it.” Dean said, glancing back at the guy sitting at the table in the corner that he totally didn’t find dreamy at all. “When are you having lunch today?” He asked absently.  
“Lunch?” She looked up from stirring cream into her coffee. “Dean, it’s quarter to eight--”  
“How do you know that guy?” He said quietly, stepping into her personal space.   
A knowing expression passed over Mindy’s face and she giggled, turning away from the counter with the cream and sugar and heading back down the main corridor, sipping her coffee.   
“Hey, Cas.” She said, smiling at the man Dean definitely didn’t have a half-boner for.   
He looked up, greeting her with a confused expression and a stiff “Hello.” and returned to his reading.   
Mindy smiled at Dean and disappeared around the corner. It took him a second to realize his mouth was hanging open, but when he did he snapped it shut and ran to catch up with her.   
“You’re telling me everything you know about that guy over burgers and fries, missy.” He hissed once he caught her.   
She smiled and held the studio door open for him.   
“Pick me up at 6.”


End file.
